The Deals We Make
by chuppa.chub
Summary: "Strm cmng" Why does a simple text force Sarah to rip Chuck out of his CIA controlled world and run. AU. Eventual Charah.
1. Running

Author's note:

This fic was prompted by a very strange dream that stemmed from too much sugar, an episode of burn notice and at least partially Frea's O'Scanlin's fantasic Fates franchise she has going. This ISN'T a cross over, but I cannot help if the spy world is small.

First foray into fanfic, please review if you liked or not, unbeta'd so if anyone wants to step up. I also apologise if the formatting is bad, I hate computers.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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**The Deals We Make**

_When they can't find you, you'll turn into a mystery. _

_But you're no mystery to me._

_-Miss California- Something Corporate  
_

**Chapter 1-Running**

**01:41 AM**

**22****nd ****September 2010**

**Wichita, Kansas  
**

Casey knelt by the mangled car. Fingering the steering wheel he concentrated hard, trying to feel Walker's hands under his.

Tried to put himself in the Porsche, 5 hours previous.

"Colonel Casey!" He stood quickly, grimacing when the stitches in his leg pulled. Turning as smartly as he could, he stepped around what used to be his partner's pride and joy, taking care not to stand on the detached bumper that hung pitifully from the crumpled hood.

Crime scene techs of many colours poured over the area like ants, swarming around the wreck and adding sweat to the pervasive smell of blood, petrol and mud. One scurried towards Casey, his boots sucking in the ground. Once he got closer Casey could see the CIA badge on his black jacket. With CIA, NSA and military techs controlling the wreck, and FBI and local cops raring at the bit behind the yellow police tape, Casey was surprised it wasn't raining piss from the all the jurisdictional tension in the air.

"Sir. Preliminary reports show bullets in the hood indicating warning shots fired from a second vehicle, tires marks on the road above indicate evasive manoeuvring. The car has left the road before the railings, and rolled approximately 4 times before coming to rest."

Impatiently Casey grunted.

The tech cleared his throat "The, uh, blood in the vehicle typing matches the typing of both occupants, but DNA confirmation will take 24hrs. As of yet we can't give you an approximate on how much blood is in the car." The tech's eyes darted back to the car. Casey didn't look. He'd seen. The part that made him sickest was on the passenger's side, where blood had congealed on the doorframe and what was left of the window, a clear impact point where blood had pooled and run thickly to floor in a dark sticky mess. "And, uh, we found Walker's service weapon in the dirt beside the car, missing 3 rounds. No word on where those bullets are."

Sighing, Casey looked back at the wreck. His battered body armour dragged at him. A glint caught his eye and he leant into the passenger window, resolutely ignoring the frame and found a cracked purple iPod on the floor. Wiping his thumb across the blood splattered display he muttered, "Hell of a 22nd birthday Kid."

**09:48 AM**

**21st September 2010 **

**New York, New York  
**

Bryce had to admit, he did like wearing the stylish suits. Apart from that, his job was incredibly boring. Go into the field, they told him, and you can have your pick of assignments all over the world. He had imagined himself crawling through jungles with resistance fighters in Columbia, seducing French diplomats in ballrooms or even spending copious amounts of time skulking in Afghani tea houses. Instead he was sitting in a cubicle on the tenth floor of a non-descript office building in freakin' New York listlessly flipping through his inbox.

Beatrice…. Saw you were *delete*

Tech Report….internet usage … *delete*

Gary Turner….. Ugh, Bryce flinched, minor flash with that one…New mail management system…*delete*

Beatrice…..Grab a drink? *delete*

Barely suppressing the urge to bash his head against the table, he contented himself to imagining how much worse his fate would be if Beatrice -the airheaded and at least ten years his senior- clerk turned out to have actionable information. Tried to imagine schmoozing it out of her and shivered as her nasal laughter sounded from 2 desks down. It doesn't even echo, he mused. It's possible she is part duck. Part duck Bryce? His college roommate internally corrected him, didn't you see that mythbusters?

Bryce stiffened. Internal dialoguing, especially with people important to him, was a judgement lapse that he couldn't afford. Shaking his head, he rose, intending to get some coffee when his computer beeped.

New Meeting:

Time: 10:00

Notes: WAR ROOM

Scrapping the coffee idea, he locked his computer and his desk and headed towards the insulated conference room.

Sitting in his usual seat near the end of the table, Bryce waited patiently for everyone else to show up. As the new information agent for Operation Fulcrum, good impressions were in his favour. Despite this, Vaughn (or, as the intersect informed him, Mr. Colt) barely nodded at him as he set his papers at the head of the table. The boss didn't really scare Bryce per se, but he always chose suits that belied his muscular frame and carefully controlled his breathing when the big man was around.

When everyone was assembled Vaughn started. When the complex codes started rolling behind his head, Bryce couldn't control the twitch of surprise. Gorram. He knew those codes. No flash necessary. He knew who wrote those codes. In fact he wrote some of them himself. If management had them then,

"Team, we have found the human intersect."

**21:45**

**22****nd**** September 2010**

**Miami, Florida  
**

Sarah Walker lied to many people, but never herself. That's why the moment she told herself she could slow down, catch her breath, because she wasn't being chased, she immediately countered it with the truth. She was running away. But she didn't bother looking behind her. Her pursuers weren't here, and at the moment all she was fleeing was a wasted 22 hour head start. Her blonde hair caught in the streetlights, glinting as she vaulted a fence.

She had been running since 11:47 the previous day. The moment she had gotten that damn text message.

"J,

rf nds rpair.

gt nw umbrlla, tke essntls & go.

Strm cmng.

B"

The number traced back to a business woman from New York of no importance or connections. Sarah figured the phone was swiped. The message was hardly cryptic. 15 minutes of internal debate later she decided to follow his advice.

And had sprinted right into another shit fight. Her plan A, Michael Western, had been shot that morning. Straight through the chest, by one of his team by the sounds of it. A car crash later and he was no where. Her pace increased and she sucked a vicious breath through her teeth. Dead or alive, Michael Western was no longer her concern. Contingency plan A had involved the protection of a far more experienced operative, one who owed her a favour and was completely unconnected to her. Plan A had meant hiding. Plan A had meant safety. Plan B, well, Sarah muttered to herself, you'd better get used to running.


	2. The Beginning

Disclaimer: The only spy thing I own is in my binoculars. All the rest, Chuck. etc, belong to NBC

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The Deals We Make

**Chapter 2-The Beginning**

_You always said destiny'd blow me away,  
and nothing's gonna blow me away._

_- Cavanaugh Park- Something Corporate_

**06:00 AM**

**22****nd ****September 2010**

**Wichita, Kansas**

"She took the asset WHERE!" Director Graham boomed, swinging his arms wildly. His huge hand smacked into a blackened LCD panel hanging from the roof and he withdrew it cursing. Cables and panels hang from every surface, the once white room now a sooty mess. Water and foam residue dripped from the ceiling, leftovers from the valiant fight to save the intersect room.

"To the diner. For an ice cream sundae." Standing with almost insolent casualness in front of the Director of the CIA, Casey couldn't quite suppress his smirk. These civilian trained operatives. No emotional control.

He smirked harder as Graham's eye twitched. "Why?"

Casey shrugged his broad shoulders. "It was his birthday."

General Beckham cleared her throat and stepped forward, shooting Casey a disapproving look. "Agent Walker is a good handler, and was keeping her asset happy. At any rate, it's better that they weren't here."

" Why?"

"Because if they had have been here, Carmichael would have been sitting right there when the assault started." Casey pointed across the room to the desk in the middle of the room. Shrapnel from the grenades had ripped huge holes through it. "At this rate, there is still a possibility Walker pre-empted the attack and stuck to SOPs. We're still checking safe houses."

"As opposed to what." Graham voice had turned deadly.

Casey shrugged again, just to watch Graham's shoulders creep a little higher. "Way I see it, we have 4 possible scenario's here. One, Walker and Carmichael escaped capture and she's followed her SOPs. Two, they were captured in the car wreck and Fulcrum has them. Three, Walker is working with Fulcrum, and she's taken Carmichael. Or four, their unconscious bodies were found by kindly civilians and upon awakening, the pair have no recollection of their covert past."

Casey saw the corners of Beckham's mouth twitch as Graham exploded.

"You imply that one of my agents..." "Two of your agents actually Graham" Beckham handed him her iPad, hitting play. Grainy security footage from the operations base ran on the screen.

The main intelligence centre, a two tiered room filled with computers, had been the main battle ground last night. Although explosions and flying debris could be seen on the ground floor, it was the man in black battle dress slowly leopard crawling across the platform that commanded the most attention.

Stopping at a desk, the figure raised to crouch and begin searching through drawers. Shoving random papers into his pockets, the unknown man rose to reach across the desk, when something caught his attention and he spun, raising to a half crouch, swinging the rifle from his back across his chest. He wasn't fast enough, catching a round to the chest that threw him across the desk.

For the brief moment it took him to recover, Bryce Larkin lay sprawled across the desk, gasping at the ceiling. Rolling off to the side, he disappeared from view momentarily. The next second he darted from behind the desk, heading for the platform railing. Casey looked away from the screen. He had no interest in seeing his one time partner get shot three times in the back again. Or watch his tumble from the second floor platform. Casey could only theorise that Bryce had been hoping to pull some of his monkey magic to escape.

Taking her iPad back, the General furrowed her eyebrows severely. "So it would seem the problem is bigger than we expected. Larkin's 'team mates' were able to remove him from the scene, dead or alive we do not know. Now we have three missing CIA agents, two missing intersects and a destroyed intelligence centre, and all we know is that somehow this all has to do with a shadowy organisation called Fulcrum that we know nothing about. I suggest, Graham, that you go and make some calls"

General Beckman paused beside Casey for a moment, watching the large black man stride out of the room. "We both know there are 5 options here Colonel."

He nodded. "The way I see it, they're already gone."

**11:00 AM**

**11****th ****March 2009**

**Wichita, Kansas**

Sarah was nearly bolting along the hallway to keep up with the guard. Sky high heels and fitted business suits were not exactly running material. She gave the young private non committal responses to his commentary of the rooms they passed. She was mildly peeved. At the moment all she knew was they appeared to be running late. Given that they were on a military base, Sarah surmised that it didn't matter how fast they got there, when they arrived they would have to wait anyway. Slowing, (finally), the guard turned back to her and motioned towards the doorway. "General Beckman's office Ma'am." Smiling politely, Sarah thanked him and stepped into the room.

"Ma'am?"

Leaning on the desk, hat tucked under one arm, was Bryce Larkin. She raised an eyebrow.

"Nice hair."

While his uniform was immaculately pressed his hair was as long as usual, the look made even less military by his spreading grin. Ignoring Bryce at the Farm had always been her forte, and she continued it now, striding briskly to the receptionist's desk so he couldn't see the side of her mouth twitch as he smirked back, "I could say the same for you. You're with me today."

He winked towards the receptionist and stood, gesturing grandly towards the door. Sarah sighed. What was it about Bryce Larkin that made her want to roll her eyes? Oh yes, she reminded herself as he offered his arm, he was irritating.

"Why am I here?"

"I requested it." He said lightly. Realising she wouldn't get anything else, they fell into small talk, Sarah catching up Bryce up on her life as much as one can when the past few years was a confusing mix of cover stories. Reaching the parking lot, he helped her into a traditional jeep. Sarah chuckled. Only Bryce would get away with driving an old school topless army jeep around in an official military capacity.

She grinned at him as she braced her arm against the door. "I feel like I'm back in Afghanistan." She wished for a moment she could pull her hair loose and ruffle it in the breeze, just enjoy riding in a topless jeep with a handsome guy. Her smile faded. She wasn't here for fun. Apparently remembering the same thing, Bryce cleared his throat as he turned into another parking lot. Judging from the sweaty men in t-shirts walking to and from their cars, it was the base's gym.

"Bryce." Sarah gave him a hard look. "Why am I here?"

"This," He hesitated, glancing towards the gym, "is a job interview."

Grabbing her hands, he pulled her from the jeep. They were almost nose to nose. In normal situations Sarah wouldn't let him stand so close, but jovial Bryce was gone, and serious Bryce was talking to her. Their personalities had put them at odds often at training, but their mutual fierce competiveness and perfectionism made them effective team, so when Bryce was serious, Sarah had learnt to listen.

"Sarah I'm not going to lie. This isn't the sort of job you'd usually put your hand up for. But when they told me I was going to have some say in my replacement I immediately put your name up. There's no one who I trust more to do this right."

Releasing her hands, he motioned for her to follow him. Brain now working overtime, Sarah barely noticed the assault of male sweat as they entered. Sarah followed Bryce's sight line across the gym to where two men fought on the sparring mats. A lithe young man was sparring with another man who appeared to far out pace his skill. Sarah raised a delicate eyebrow. She recognised the bigger man's bearish frame.

"Is that John Casey?"

"Yeah," Bryce shoved his hands in his pockets, "He'll be your new partner."

"Casey? He's a wash out."

Now it was Bryce's turn to grill her with his eyes. Lowering his voice, he spoke vehemently. "John Casey is one of the top agents at the NSA and the only man I know dedicated enough to this country that he allowed us to rip his career to shreds so no eyebrows would be raised when he showed up home-side in what appears to be a rookie assignment."

Sarah took in the implications. "What about my reputation?"

Bryce's face abruptly changed back into his bright smile. "What reputation! You're like a ghost, more faces than Ethan Hunt." Grinning at her blank expression he tugged her ponytail. "I like the new look."

She scowled. "Why exactly am I blonde Bryce?" The order to colour her hair had been in the instruction packet too.

Bryce's eyes darkened and he let go of her ponytail. "He likes brunettes."

Sarah blinked. Who likes brunettes? Casey? Her brain said stupidly. What? Ignoring her confusion, Bryce strode towards the mats.

"Chuck!" Bryce called and the younger man's headed snapped round. Both Sarah and Bryce flinched a moment before the Casey's fist connected with the young man's face and he landed flat on his back, eyes closed. Bryce bolted forward a pace.

"Bryce!" Chuck snapped his eyes open and enthusiastically scrambled towards the ropes. He yanked out his mouthguard and pulled his headgear off, unleashing an array of unruly sweat drenched curls. Reaching down, he and Bryce bumped fists. Sarah observed them. The smile on Bryce's face was more genuine than she'd ever seen and Chuck's eager expression mirrored it back. In an instant her eyes flicked over him, taking in all the details she needed. Younger than Bryce and herself, taller than Casey who stood next to him, despite his slightly slouched posture. Slender, but Sarah could see the outline his broad shoulders. He wiped his face on a sleeve and Sarah caught a glimpse of stomach. Swimmer's build, Sarah thought in a wistful sigh, then started as he tugged the shirt down again. Thankfully he was still in intense conversation with Bryce. Casey however, was scanning the room with his permanent scowl. When his gaze fell on her, she nodded imperceptibly to him, and he returned the head tilt.

"She's here about the job," Bryce added significantly, and Chuck's smile faltered. Narrowing his eyes, Chuck scanned her up and down, shaking his head.

"Sarah," Bryce chirped helpfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Can you turn around for us please."

Sarah gave them her secretary smile before spinning. The one that said, I'll be polite and do what you say now, but cross me the wrong way and I'll make your life hell because I can. She'd perfected that in a biotech firm in Dubai, and people could never figure out why it made them feel so uneasy.

Bryce lifted her ponytail. Sarah stiffened. Extending barely a centimetre from her hairline was a scar, a remnant from a fall from a window. How would Bryce know about it? Why would Bryce show his friend? Not liking where this was heading, she tugged the bottom of her suit jacket down, turning smoothly on one heel as Bryce released her hair. Turning back, she found herself the focus of Chuck's megawatt smile.

"Shiny."

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**Authors note:**

**There will be Chuck next chapter. I promise. But at least you know he exists now!  
**

**Sorry for long time no read, I've been slammed with uni and a mysterious illness. But I love how on this site people are so understanding of that. Readers, I appreciate you. The reviews and story alerts for the first chapter made me all squirmy inside.**

**I'm finding it difficult to work out the pace for the story. I so much want to tell you what's going on now, but there is some backstory that needs to be established as well, seeing as this is AU and the characters backgrounds are different. If anyone has any idea's how I can create better pace without goign all flashbacky let me know thanks, I've never written like this before. Or if you think it's going okay, let me know to thanks. **

**I just realised Casey should be a lower rank. But oh well, please ignore the inconsistency and review! Review on the inconsistency if you must. **


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